


A Fluff By Any Other Name

by SeeNashWrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, Dogs, F/M, Family, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Husband!Dean, Love, Practical Jokes, Reader Insert, ReaderInsert!Mommy, Sam Winchester Gets Dogs, happiness, meet cute, so much sweetness you'll need a dentist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeNashWrite/pseuds/SeeNashWrite
Summary: Sam arrives at the hospital to meet his newborn niece.





	A Fluff By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> For a follower celebration at Tumblr, I asked the Nashooligans to submit Cringeworthies, a la @midnight - "Using three words, how much can you make me cringe?"
> 
> A dear friend - who knows my loathing of saccharine fluff in general & my eye-rolling at authors assigning family/children of the Winchesters (plainly named John, Mary, Dean, Sam, Henry, Deanna, etc.) ridiculously spelled/made-up/supes millenial names - submitted:
> 
> "Dean's daughter MacRyeleighaynnabeau"
> 
> To which *I* said: 
> 
> "Well-played. I will see your Winchester-child-naming-nightmare, and raise you an SPN fanfic triple-cringe trifecta in return: DOMESTIC. BABY. FLUFF. Call my fluff-bluff, have ye? [clears throat] READER. INSERT. MOMMY. Ooh, and - SAM. GETS. DOGS. I’m just sayin’, if we’re gonna get down, let’s get dooown, Mariana Trench this mother."
> 
> And whaddya know? People loved it. Now I bring it to you, dear AO3ers.
> 
> In summation: Nash. Does. Fluff. Y’all enjoy it. Much like that smut that spawned from a lost bet, it ain’t likely to happen again.

 

Dean was waiting for Sam in the hallway.

“No flowers?”

“Uh, she  _hates_ flowers. Figured I’d ask what she wants for dinner, run get it.”

“Maybe  _I_ would’ve appreciated the flowers.”

“You know, I’m going to let this go, because you’ve had a long day, but not as long as  _hers_ , so—”

“Ask me.”

“Ask… what?”

“ _You_ know.”

“Dean, did you sneak some morphine, or whatever they’ve been—”

“Ask me what your niece’s name is. Actually, no - ask me what it’s  _not_.”

His voice hadn’t ratcheted down to the  _deep_ -deep levels of pissed off - and, to be sure, there were several subtle variations Sam knew well, having been on the receiving end of  _all_ of them - but Dean was definitely serious, and had crossed his arms for good measure.

“I legit don’t know where you’re going with—-”

“The dogs. All your foster dogs. You took the good names.”

“Okay, now, that’s— I started volunteering  _way_ before she ever got pregnant, before you two even got  _serious_ , come to think of it. And I just chose a bunch of names that I thought of off the top of my—-”

“I picked up on that, yeah - around the time you used  _Jessie_. And on that real jumpy, kinda twitchy one, which was  _extra_  weird. And was a  _boy_.”

“Wait, wait - that was such a sweet dog, and besides - you really would’ve wanted to name your daughter after my dead fiancée?!”

“Oh,  _everybody’s_  dead,  _Sam!_ ” Dean whisper-hissed. “And, no, not necessarily, but I  _do_  wonder what  _Jessica’d_  think about that…. about that…. what damn breed  _was_  that thing?”

“A mix.”

“Of?”

“A pooset and a corgat.”

“Sam. The  _hell._ ”

“A poodle-basset hound mix and a rat terrier-corgi mix shared a special hug—”

“So it’s a poocorgaset.”

Sam stared.

“Corsetpoogat.”

Sam brought a hand up, slowly rubbed his temples.

“Can I pull from the rest of the real names? I mean, ratbassgipoo is turning my crank.”

“But always the poo.”

“Of  _course_  always the poo, what the hell good does - _dle_  do anybody?”

The nurse cleared her throat - she was leaning into the hallway, a leg and foot still in the room.

“We’re done. Everything’s looking good. She said for you guys to come on in, but if you’re in the middle of…..”

“No! No, not at all. Hey, and this is my little brother, Sam. Sammy, this is our nurse, she’s been here the whole time, basically delivered Macka… Mmmuh… my kid.”

She raised her eyebrows at that, but smiled, extending her hand and shaking the one offered, introducing herself as Dean slipped past them.

“Uncle Sam, huh?”

“Uh-huh…. oh god, I just  _now_ realized that!”

“Eh… could be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“You  _could_ have a name that your nurse had to re-write on the birth certificate five times - twice for misspells, then again because she ran out of room. Me. I’m that person. We’re talking about me, here.”

“What was the fourth? Since there was a fifth?”

“Oh, well,  _that_  one? Can’t take credit for - under ‘father’s name’, the proud papa got a case of the jitters and wrote  _your_  father’s name.”

“Jeez, I’m so… I’m  _so_ sorry…” 

Sam would’ve sounded sincere if he hadn’t burst out laughing, but she immediately joined in. And though he didn’t know it at the time, he  _would_ be sincere with her many more times than not, and he’d be getting plenty of it in return. Starting that night, when he’d ask if she’d be interested in getting coffee sometime. She would be tips-to-toes sincere when saying she hoped to hear from him soon.

They’d still keep bursting into laughter, amongst and in between the sincere times, over a million different things through the years. There’d be the breath-stealing kind, prompted by the action of more amusing-than-scary hunts; the gasp-induced kind, stemming out of nervous relief over the hunts that  _weren’t;_ and her favorite, the bent-over, knotted-into-cramps kind, resulting from drunken Dean tales of hunts long past. And then  _his_ favorite, when the Winchester kids were raising hell, and there was nothing to do  _but_  laugh.

This time, this  _first_ time, after the birth of their niece, in the moment they’d met, would ultimately get ranked as the best, though it was followed closely by the tear-tinged round that erupted after  _another_ first, when they heard the justice of the peace say the words “ _husband and wife_ ”.

But that’s another story.

For now, Sam closed the door quietly before tip-toeing to the bed, bending and giving you a kiss on the forehead. He glanced over to the bassinet and back.

“Nice work.”

“Work is right.”

Dean was seated in an armchair next to your bed, unlacing his boots, but paused and looked up at this, tacking on a clarification.

“Work is  _damn_  right.”

You winked in acknowledgment before speaking again.

“So listen, while I’ve got you both—-”

“We in trouble already?” Dean asked, changing his seat from the chair to the opposite side of the bed, perching near the end. 

“—-I wanted to make sure you knew that I haven’t totally lost my marbles with the name, and I  _know_ that’s what you’re both thinking.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Dean just held up his hands in a sort-of surrender.

“Babe, I know I said I’d be fine with whatever you chose, but we ain’t lied to each other yet, and  _wow_ \- it’s horrible.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t worry. It’s an old family name, and, I mean… we could squeak a nickname out of it… probably…  _you_ know how some of these Gaelic names are, it’s hard to tell how to pronounce them on sight.”

“So how’s it pronounced?” Sam asked.

“Get ready,” Dean muttered.

And Sam’s jaw dropped briefly as something largely incomprehensible - possibly  _worse_  than the name was on paper - came out of your mouth.

“Sis?” 

“Bro?”

“That’s  _beyond_  horrible.”

“Yeah, it is. It is a vicious eyesore that she won’t be able to spell for who-knows-how-long, it makes ears bleed, and I’m a garbage parent for it, though I  _will_  point out her father was zero help.”

Now  _Dean’s_ jaw dropped, but clearly in faux offense.

“I resent that - ‘cause every name I said I liked….”

“….every name we agreed on, that we  _loved_ for her….”

“….was already a dog’s name.”

You and Dean turned your heads in unison, leveling  _looks_  at Sam.

“I  _can’t_ have taken up  _all_  of them—-”

“Mary.”

“Jane.”

“Which also took out Mary Jane.”

“Erica.”

“Charlotte.”

“Bobby, which took away ‘Bobbie’.”

“Sandra.”

Dean wrinkled his nose, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“Right, right - Sandy, and we even would’ve been fine with Anne.”

“I haven’t named any of them Sandra  _or_  Anne,” Sam pointed out.

“No, but you  _did_  name that fire-engine-red cocker spaniel, the one that wouldn’t stop crawling into my lap,  _Anna -_ which was a  _real_ cute move, by the way,” Dean shot back.

“We’d already 86′d Anna, on  _your_ request, and I  _still_ haven’t heard that whole story,” you said, jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest before jabbing it in the air at Sam.

“The one that  _really_ pissed me off? And I  _get_ to be pissed off because of the disaster that currently  _is_ my—”

“Whoa!” Dean interjected.

You gave him brief but pointed side-eye before getting back to fussing at Sam.

“Millie. You took  _Millie_. And she was an adorable dachshund, an absolute  _doll_ , but, I mean, come  _on_.”

The tone of your voice had changed, leaving the realm of good-natured teasing and stepping into something akin to disappointment. It wasn’t lost on Sam, who looked to his shoes, swallowing. Then he let his gaze drift to the bassinet, keeping it there even as you went on, though now with gentle care.

“But I get it.  _We_  get it.”

“Get what?”

“That menagerie of furry fluff. Thinking they’re it. Only kids you’ll ever have.”

Sam was completely focused,  _spellbound_ bythe rise-and-fall of the tiny, striped-blanket-bundle’s easy breaths.

Dean’s voice now, definitely deep, definitely serious, definitely one of the subtle variations Sam valued above all the rest, the slightly scolding one that hid a bottomless well of love.

“Can’t know the future, Sammy. I know sometimes we  _have_ , but…. nothing’s in stone. I sure as hell didn’t picture  _this_  for me.  _Ever_.”  

He nodded - it was true, just didn’t feel like it.

“And even if it  _was_? Written in stone? Find another big-ass hammer, grenade launcher, whatever - lay waste, kiddo,” you added. 

The baby suddenly jolted herself with a sneeze, causing a reciprocal jolt across her audience. She shifted a little, smacked her lips a few times, didn’t show the first indication of waking up, that anything in her brand new world was even slightly out-of-sorts. Her uncle briefly thought on the realization of how hard he’d fight to keep her in such a place as he brought his eyes back to her parents.

And was surprised to find them grinning.

“What?”

“Check out her bracelet,” Dean said.

Sam looked to you, received a nod.

“Go ahead. She won’t notice.”

She didn’t, but  _did_ get a hell of a grip on a finger of the hand that moved her arm, so he slid the bracelet around with a few fingers of his free hand. Sam fought his  _own_ grin as he tucked her arm back under the blanket. Well, mostly - he opted to leave her hand out, let the grip remain for as long as she was willing to hold on to him, then raised an eyebrow at his shoulder-shaking, snickering brother.

Dean kept it up as he edged to the head of the bed, scooting in next to you best he could in the cramped space, quieting only when he let his eyes close, no need to see as he tilted on his side, laced his fingers through yours like he’d done a million times before, the metal of matching angel-blessed bands briefly clinking.

“So your nurse… she was in on this?”

You shrugged.

“The father’s name - that part was 100% true.”

Eyes still closed, Dean briefly gave a thumbs-up, took your hand again, went back to his dozing.

You shook your head at him a little, though a smile was on your face as you went on.

“She’s the whole package, my man.” 

Sam smiled, too.

“Yeah. I noticed that.”

“Thought you might.”

“Speaking of thoughts, what made you think of it? Not the prank, I mean—”

“Turns out, my great-grandmother had a nice, simple, easily pronounceable, no-brainer spelling, peach of a maiden name.”

“And the story on this  _middle_ name?”

“She’ll prove herself worthy.”

“Hardy-har-har.”

 “It was the first name on both our lists…”

 Even in the dim light, you saw his eyes go shiny.

 “…and, we hedged our bets - figured even if you ran out of ideas, you’d never name one of your fluffs after yourself. Thought we’d do it for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is fuel! Let me know if you enjoyed. -Nash


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